


What grows in Duskwood

by Trollvine



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trollvine/pseuds/Trollvine
Summary: A traveling warrior happens upon a strange tree growing in the dark soil of the Duskwood forest.





	What grows in Duskwood

**Author's Note:**

> This is among my early attempts at writing porn, and was tricky as its all one sided. But i'm happy with how it turned out, and eager to try this genre again. please leave lots of constructive criticism so i can improve. Thank you!

Tanath Sunwing thrust his sword into the sandy ground. It had been a good couple of days, fighting trolls along the cost in the northwest part of Stranglethorn. For months these trolls had been harassing ships and supplies making the dangerous crossing from Kalimdor to the basecamp further south, as well as sleek elven vessels making the dangerous trip all the way from Quel’Thalas. Several of these had run the dangerous blockades off the ruins of Gilneas, past the keen eyed dwarven gunners at Menethil Harbor, and the storm lashed coast of westfall, only to be sunk mere miles from their destination by these savage, barbarous trolls. 

But the Zul’Kunda trolls had been stretched thin. A small army of them had marched north, intent on plundering the alliance camp on the border of Stranglethorn and Forests of Duskwood. The soldiers of the alliance were entrenched, however, their numbers augmented by wandering adventurers. Under hails of bullets and arrows, the Zul’Kunda retreated, leaving hundreds of their number dead on the sloping hills of the northern jungle. 

At almost the same moment as the survivors staggered back into the ruins, the horde forces, marching north from the Grom’Gol basecamp, assaulted the ruins in force. Tanath had been one of the first over the wall, a Forsaken woman with wicked daggers at his side. They had cut and slain their way through the trolls, as the Orcs of Grom’Gol smashed the walls and cast down many of the ancient statues. The trolls broke and fled, as their skull piles were crushed and their sacred totems snapped beneath the iron fury of the horde. 

Tanath had broken away from the rest of the horde troops and irregulars. He spied one of the Zul’Kunda, a priest or shaman of some kind. With keen eyes Tanath had seen a shining ornament of elvish manufacture, a golden sunburst with two golden wings on each side, tied to the bone and wood headdress of the troll. This symbol was of Tanath’s own house, probably looted from some distant cousin, slain on one of the elven boats off the savage coast. Pride would not allow Tanath to leave this symbol of his kin in the hands of so lowly and savage a foe, and he had given chase. 

For a day and a night Tanath had tracked the troll, finally catching up with him on the banks of the river that flowed through the mountain border that rose above the sweltering jungle. He had gone far north, and the trees had become dark and barren, the lustrous green of the tropical coasts giving way to darker, gloomier shades of Duskwood. It was a blighted land which the humans of Stormwind clung to against the foul things that creeped beneath the darkened branches. 

The troll had been drinking from the river, his back to Tanath. Ever the sportsman, Tanath brushed back his golden blonde hair and drew his long blade, making sure to make as much noise as possible. The troll spun, cursing and drawing his own dagger from his belt. The two clashed, but Tanath had nearly four decades of experience with his weapon. The headless body of the troll shaman floated gently down the river, back to the jungle. The emblem of the winged sun sat on Tanaths neatly folded clothes. 

Tanath relished a bath in the stream, after two days of fighting and running and sweating under the hot jungle sun. His pack, armor, weapons and clothes lay on the western bank, while he bathed. The small sliver of pink soap did wonders with the blood, grit, even the smell of his horde comrades, and the stream was crystal clear and cool. He could even admire himself in the calmer parts of the lazy, sunlit stream, and he indulged his considerable elven vanity. His body was slender, but still powerfully strong, a prime figure of an elven warrior. His muscles clung to his body tightly, from his firm arms down his lean stomach, and his strong legs that had carried him for days through the jungle also supported a backside with no shortage of an alluring curve. His pale skin bore no scars or blemishes, for he was far too skilled a warrior to let a foes blade mark him. 

On the eastern bank, the black trees of Duskwood glowered over the stream, stretching their boney branches like seeking fingers. Tanath had done a quick scout of the area before stripping and wading naked into the water, and his eyes and ears were sharp and alert. There was nothing around him, not the scent or sound of animals. But there was some other scent, something alien to a normal forest, but somehow alluring. It was sweet, like something baking with sugar or honey. He found himself craning his neck to and fro as he wandered a bit upstream, sniffing the air with his keen nose. 

Curiosity stirred in Tanath. His eyes set upon a tree, seemingly set slightly apart from the others. It was taller, and its branches drooped downward like a willow, but the leaves were large and jagged. At first he wasn’t even sure it was a single tree, the trunk enclosed by drapes of the broad, dark leaves. The sweet scent seemed to be coming from the tree, or something under it, and he was beginning to enjoy it immensely. 

Tanath walked dripping from the stream, padding up the soft grass towards the tree. He breathed deep, pulling in great lungfuls of the wonderful smell. As he trotted up the bank, he passed a gray stone, dimly noting something carved into the side. Something written in his own language? He didn’t stop to read it, didn’t seem important as another wave of the sweet smell wafted over him.

The leaves seemed to brush and caress him as he reached the tree and pushed his way through the thick vines. Each touch of the leaves seemed to break them slightly, releasing even more of the intoxicating aroma. Tanath’s senses were swirling, his mind narrowing with predatory focus, and he crashed recklessly through the leaves and vines. his skin danced with sensation seemingly heightened as his body pressed through the strange growth. 

They parted suddenly, and Tanath stood naked before the surprisingly slender trunk. The bark was smooth and black, rich patterns swirling through it like oil dancing in water. The trunk was unblemished, aside from a bit of moss growing around the roots and base, and it almost seemed finished, fit for display in the palace of the wealthiest nobility. The sunlight filtered through the upper branches, the thick leaves only obscuring the bottom half of the trunk. The crown was thin and sickly looking, bare branches arcing gracefully and tapering to smooth, sharp points. 

Tanath approached the trunk, and as he did, the sweet scent began to fade. His head cleared, and the air took on a damp, earthy smell. He placed a hand idly on the tree’s trunk, and it was surprisingly warm. The leaves rustled gently, and Tanath realized that the evening was still. Too still for leaves to be rustling. He whirled around, expecting an ambush from some foe that had gone unnoticed by his previously dulled senses. 

There was nothing. The leafy vines swished back and forth in the windless air. Tanath could not shake the growing feeling of unease that tightened its grip on him. He couldn’t see or hear anything, aside from the tree, but something was definitely wrong. He had had enough, and turning on his heel he began to stride quickly away from the tree and back towards the river. 

He pushed his way quickly through the thick vines, intent suddenly on getting back to the shore and his clothes, not to mention his weapon. He was forcing his way through the vines, when suddenly he tripped, and found himself flat on his face. 

One of the vines had tripped him up. He kicked his foot free and attempted to stumble to his feet, only to discover his left arm entangled in another vine. With a surge of horror he realized it was moving on its own, slithering like a snake against his bare flesh and squeezing tightly. He grabbed at it with his free hand and twisted, freeing himself and stumbling again as a third vine began to wrap around his leg.

Tanath ripped it free of his ankle and dived forward, attempting to reach the edge of the vines and break away from the grasping things. It was no use. With a sudden speed a vine leapt out and lashed around his right arm. He was yanked back, and as he tore at it two more got him, one ensnaring his left leg below the knee, the other sliding around his right thigh. 

He tried to twist free, but he was unable to turn properly. His left arm was ensnared as he struggled, and the vines were tugging him now even as they tightened, dragging him along the ground back to the trunk of the tree. 

Tanath thrashed and flailed as best he could, muscles straining against the vines that continued to wind themselves around him, and two more attached themselves to his arms and another began to wrap around his waist. These snaky things began to pull on his limbs, and he suddenly got a vision of himself as a puppet on strings, manipulated by some unseen puppeteer. 

The vines on his feet tugged upwards, and Tanath was flipped clumsily onto his face. He squirmed, attempting to wriggle away along the ground, but he was held tight. He thrashed his head side to side, trying to take in what he could see and spot some way out of this. To his horror he saw more vines, snaking along the ground towards him. 

He craned his face away from the first one that approached him, but he could not go far, and it slithered up to his neck. With purposeful motions, it began coiling around his neck, gently but firmly pulling his head up as he struggled to draw in frantic breaths. His arms were pulled back, the vines trapping each one tugging hard, and his top was hauled upwards, his knees left on the ground.

A new vine appeared in his field of vision, hovering before his face. Tanath could clearly see it shining with a syrupy sheen of some kind of sap on the surface of it, and suddenly his senses were flooded again with the hot sweet scent. He took it in with his frantic breaths, and he felt as though it promised some kind of wonderful release, like the narcotics he took back home in Quel’Thalas. 

But his panic was profound, and whatever these vines were exuding, they seemed sickly and cloying as he struggled against them. His thighs were both firmly gripped now, and with a sick feeling in his guts he realized his legs were being pulled apart. He cried out, a choked gurgle as the vine around his throat held him tightly, and he tried to master his breathing as he sucked in wheezing gasps.

His back, legs, thighs, arms, and ass were alive with sensation as the vines slithered along them, like an extremely unsettling and invasive massage. His limbs strained and flexed in impotent attempts to free himself. His thoughts tried to race in panic against the brain numbing effects of the sweet smell in the air. His body was pulled in such a series of ways that he wasn’t able to properly flex his muscles to move. 

Two questing vines slithered up his back and across his shoulders, clinging to his exposed neck skin as they reached his face, wriggling against his cheeks and chin. Tanath clamped his mouth shut in panic as one brushed his lips, the breath now coming from his nose carrying a renewed air of panic. 

Tanath jumped at a powerful new sensation. His cock, exposed and bobbing stupidly between his still slowly spreading legs, had caught the attention of a new vine. A powerful wave of sensation came over him as his shaft was gripped, firmly but gently. How or why he was semi erect at a time like this was a mystery to him. From the tip down, the vine coiled and slithered towards his base. It was warm, somehow, and the surprise of the sensation gave way to a shudder of pleasure, despite his panic. 

The vines exploring his face had begun to slow, taking their time as one continued to poke weakly at his lips and the other coiled around itself near his chin. He tried to force his head back, to pull away from the things prodding at his fine elven features, but he was still gripped by his neck like a vice. 

Tanath’s eyes shot wide as a vine from his back began to squirm downward, passing the small of his back and wriggling between the gently rising curves of his backside. He bucked and twisted, gritting his teeth as he fought his urge to yell out in panic. Every vine gripping him seemed to tighten as he tried to surge forward, his knees only able to tap weakly on the ground as he flexed his legs with all his strength. 

The questing vine reached a very sensitive spot, and Tanath managed to slide his lower lip between his teeth, chewing it in sheer panic. The tip of the vine was tapered, slightly, but it was still round, with woody knots along the length. He could feel its texture as it slithered between the soft mounds of his rear, and slid side to side as the length of the thing settled on to his back. 

Three things happened in an eye blink. The vine on his cock clenched suddenly, an aggressive motion that was half pleasure and half pain. The vine on his rear plunged into his backdoor with no time to adjust, and with his surprise gasp of pain, his mouth was filled with the vine that darted past his lips and down his throat. He gagged, unable to adjust to this invader either, as it thrashed and wriggled awfully.

The deep plunge of the new lover behind him was making his legs shake, though now that it had forced its way inside him it squirmed around. Tanath could feel both the uncomfortable stretching of his entrance and the wriggling a few inches inside him. The movements of the thing were horrifying and alien, and Tanath tried to flex his muscles or draw his hips forward, anything to expel the invader. 

He forced breath through his nose, his mouth stretched wide to accommodate the vine pushing down his throat. He gurgled, and something in his head told him that he was feeling his gag reflex being beaten into submission. 

These invaders were smooth, with a few lumps below the vines surfaces, giving them the texture of polished wooden branches that moved with fluid grace. Tanath was grateful there was no rough bark or thorns on the outside of the vines currently forcing their way into his tender parts. Small mercy. He was drooling, unable to control it, and saliva was running down his chin, lubricating the vine that was now caressing his cheeks and chin with an almost loving gentleness as he was so roughly constrained and used by the thing.

His cock, normally his pride and joy, was being handled far rougher than he was normally okay with, and this was no soft skin of a maidens body. The vine coiled and slid, yanking the loose skin of his shaft up and down, and he whimpered a bit. Through the rough treatment of pain he could feel the thing throbbing against his own pulsing member, as though it has a circulating heartbeat all its own. 

The vine in his ass pulled itself back, the knobs dragging along his inner walls back to the tortured ring of his entrance, and for a brief moment he dared to hope it may exit. It did not though, plunging deeper again with no warning, drawing a tortured, though muffled, scream from Tanath. The vine in his mouth thrashed, forcing more of itself into his mouth and down his aching throat, cutting off his animal whine of pain with a gurgle.

His ass was now being worked harder, as though his scream had coaxed eagerness from this thing, with a steady rhythm it pulsed, back and forth, travel eased by the surprisingly oily sap the vine must be leaking from some part of it. The motion was pain, for nearly a minute Tanath tried to clench and scream and thrash against this defiling of both his elven pride and his no longer virgin ass.

But the beating continued, and now with each unwelcome thrust, a small rush of something almost like pleasure was beginning to replace the searing heat and pain. He did not want this, of course, but the journey of the vine and the pulsing of his own cock were mixing into a not exactly unenjoyable feeling. Something that might have once been a scream rose in his throat, but it came out as a long, loud, submitting moan of a steadily growing pleasure. 

This must have pleased the vine occupying his throat, for at the vibrations of his moan it began to swell, something pulsing beneath the smooth, supple bark that made up the thing. His airway was now fully choked off, and a fresh wave of panic rose as he squirmed. 

The vine was having none of it, and with a final throbbing swell, something burst from it deep in his throat, something he could not taste but which traveled straight down towards his stomach and caused another burst of the sickly sweet smell to waft over him, invading him afresh with each panicked breath.

The lights began to dim at the edge of his vision, and though he struggled, the vines held Tanath tight. He tried to thrash, to move, but his strength was fleeing him. He couldn’t breathe, his heart beat in his ears, and with one final shudder, his body went limp, and the world went foggy. 

His muscles did not respond, but he was dimly aware of movement, beyond the obvious penetration. The world seemed to slide, shift, and perhaps do a somersault? He was twisting, most definitely moving now. His head spun with vertigo, and he found to his dismay he could focus on this nauseous feeling properly, as the penetrating vines had taken an unexpected pause.

Tanath’s sense of direction returned, with a rush, and he realized he was suspended, nearly ten feet off the ground, upside down, his back pressed to the smooth black trunk of the tree. The vines around him tightened and he was fastened to the tree itself, snug and immobile. His legs spread above him, and he could see a swirling, gently swaying mass of branches, leaves, and the creeping vines.

They slithered down towards him, embracing his legs and thighs as the one still lodged inside him began to slide again, in and out, taking long, deep strokes. This was nowhere near as uncomfortable as it had been when he was first taken by the vine, and he could see his own prick, in his field of vision, bounce and throb with pleasure in the coiled embrace of the vine on his cock. 

The tightness on his neck had loosened, and Tanath felt his cheeks caressed now, gently, almost tender and loving. He was supported firmly by a massed network of the things, and he dared his body to relax by his own will. 

Almost immediately as he did so, the vines increased their caressing. The restraint on his neck went limp, now a simple smooth coil about him like some druids necklace. The vine in his mouth pulled back, freeing his throat to breath comfortably again, and before he knew what he was doing he flicked his tongue along the thing, and massaged it gently with with timid flexes of his lips. 

There was a creaking sound, deep in the trunk of the tree, like an old tree blowing in the wind. The vines pressed and squeezed now with a gentle firmness, like a fierce hug between comrades. Tanath thought he could hear an increase to the swishing sounds of the leaves and branches twisting back and forth, and the vine in his backside began to increase its speed, the strokes coming long and deep and fast. 

The sensations were dizzying. Tanath felt his own lust now coming to a boil, and his cock ached with the growing desire to release. His breath was quickening, and with a slither the vine in his mouth left, swirling past his lips and caressing his cheek with the warmth of his own mouth. He whimpered and gasped and squealed and moaned, trying to flex his hips now, wanting to be an active participant in this now pleasing situation. 

The two vines working him set a complimentary rhythm, thrusting and stroking in time with each other, and Tanath’s heart beat faster, his cock ached and throbbed with eagerness, his body rolling with each wave of pleasure cast by the nameless thrusting lover above and below and all around him. 

He wasn’t sure if this was purely natural bliss, or if his compliance had been partially bought with some kind of drug or pheromone from this… tree? Was this even a normal tree? But the rocking work of the vines on his body drove these thoughts from him. He could feel it coming, roiling up from the depths within him, and the vines seemed to sense it, increasing their movements and working him with sensual eagerness. 

Even though he felt it coming, his orgasm struck with a shock that drove the breath from his body. His squirming form went rigid with a shock, only his legs trembling and his fingers twitching against the warm, smooth trunk of the tree. His back arched as much as it could and he moaned in agonized ecstasy as he rode out the most intense orgasm of his life. The muscles in his prick rolling like waves, driving out spiraling ropes of his seed onto the leaves and vines of the plant that coiled about his torso. The waves began to slow and roll harder, and he gasped, sweat and tears running from his eyes up his forehead into the messed tangle of his hair. A few more gasps of pleasure, and he could feel himself being drawn up now, embraced and bundled into the happy slithering embrace of the strange tree. 

Shilvi furrowed her brow, and sipped her herbal tea. The tall Kaldorei woman stood near the stream banks in simple brown robes, watching the Kuliuc tree up the small hill rolling up from the bank, the gently rising sun just beginning to touch the very top branches. A few dozen yards north, tucked back in the trees, was a small cabin, blue smoke rising from the chimney. She chewed on her lips, watching the branches squirm and sway in a way more energetic than she had seen in months. 

After a while a gnome woman trundled out of the little cabin, and wandered over to Shilvi. The two woman stood side by side, watching the tree for a few minutes. 

Finally the gnome spoke. “Been this way long?” Shivli shrugged her shoulders, and took another leisurely sip of her tea. 

“No, it was docile last afternoon when i checked it. I should have taken a look in the evening, but i was just so tired.” The gnome nodded and cracked her knuckles. 

“Alright, i’ll get the bows and we can see whats going on.” 

She wandered back to the cabin, returning a few minutes later with a long bow, sized for the elven woman, and a quiver of arrows. Shilvi traded her teacup for the bow and arrows, leaning the quiver against a medium sized rock and tugging the bowstring. 

“Thank you Brixie. Let’s just see if i can do this….” 

She drew an arrow, the stone tip of which was coated in a dark purplish syrup. The bow quivered in her hands, and she shot. The arrow skipped to the right, hissing through the vines of the tree. 

Shivli grunted and drew another arrow, taking careful aim, and fired. This arrow sank into the dirt a dozen feet in front of the tree, and Shivli shook her head as she selected a third arrow. “Oh, i really am perfectly wretched at this sort of thing.” 

Brixie the gnome shrugged, fishing a bug out of the teacup. “I’ve seen you pin things when you’ve a mind to. You’ll get it!” 

Shivli drew her third arrow, and fired. The shot went wild, hissing into the ground but skipping off a smooth hidden stone, banking up sharply and striking off one of the rune carved stones that surrounded the tree. It pinwheeled through the air and finally landed, barely ten yards in front of Shivli’s feet. Shivli and Brixe looked at each other, then both burst into giggles. 

“Oh you have to stop Shivli, i’m going to have to spent the whole day fletching more arrows!” Brixie hiccuped, laughing through her tea. 

Shivli shook her mirth from her, eyes, then took up a forth arrow. “Alright, i’ll do this right.” She strode forward, and Brixie followed, until they were standing at the edge of the ring of rune carved stones surrounding the Kuliuc tree. There seemed to be a moaning sound coming from somewhere in the leafy veils of branches. She knocked her arrow, barely 50 feet from the tree trunk, and let it fly, the arrow thudding home with a satisfying sound into the trunk of the tree. 

The two women watched as the branches began to slow their movements, as the syrupy poison on the arrowhead was pulled into the Kuluic tree’s hyper fast circulatory system. The air resonated with a nearly inaudible hissing sound, and a wonderfully pleasant scent wafted across the bank in the early morning sun. 

Out of the scrambled tangle of branches and vines, a naked figure dropped clumsily to the ground. Shivli and Brixie stared for a moment, then looked at each other. 

Tanath awoke suddenly. His body ached, legs, arms, and other, more delicate areas. His throat felt raw, and he tried to control his breathing. He was lying on a comfortable cot in a small cabin, rustic, but comfortable and warm. 

“Oh, look who’s awake!” A Kaldorei woman was smiling at him, watching him from a wooden chair in front of a small desk, covered in jars and bottles. She shushed him as he opened his mouth to speak, rising and walking over. “Relax, you’re safe. You’ve been through… quite an ordeal, i think.” She offered him a bowl of cool water, and he drank gratefully, then settled back. She smiled at him, in a paternal way. 

“My name is Shivli. I’m so sorry about the tree, it was brought to me years ago as a sapling by a draenai woman. She wanted to see if it would grow here on Azeroth. I must say it has taken to our soil here in Duskwood quite nicely.” She sighed. “But i’m not really sure why it… does what it does, well, you know firsthand i suppose. It’s so hard to control, we had to put up a rune border to stop is spreading, and we must gather the seeds it releases every Autumn. Still so much to learn i’m afraid.” Behind her on the table was a huge wooden bowl, filled with what must be the seeds, small spheres of dark red. 

Shivli gestured to a small wooden table. Tanath’s clothes and sword lay on top, including the winged sun emblem. “Those belong to you, I think? You can take them and be on your way whenever you like, though I think you might want to rest another day or so.” 

Tanath nodded, then whispered. “Thank you, Shivli.” She smiled and gently brushed his hair from his face. “It is my pleasure.” 

Tanath left their company the next night. He had recovered quickly, and Shivli had packed him a few days worth of fresh food for his journey back to Stranglethorn. Brixie and Shivli had waved good bye from the door of the cabin, and he had waved back as he skirted the bank, keeping south at first and far away from the rune stones that made up the mystic cage holding the tree at bay. 

Once out of sight of the little cabin, he had journey back north, to the edge of the ring of rune stones surrounding and containing the tree. The scent on the air no longer made him lose control, sufficiently trained as he had been in what lay beyond the ring. But he had sketched the runes on some paper, and tucked the paper back into his weapon repair kit at his belt. It bumped the small leather bag that held a handful of the dark red seeds, and he smiled to himself. Perhaps, back in the sunlit groves of Quel’Thalas, on his families expansive estate, he would grow his own little Kuliuc tree. Perhaps he would find a way to subdue the tree after a set period of time, and once again, he might just let it take him with that sweet, cloying scent, and pull him into the embrace of its vines again.


End file.
